


Being Human

by Dragonlingdar



Category: Yoroiden Samurai Troopers | Ronin Warriors
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 11:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonlingdar/pseuds/Dragonlingdar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After 400+ years of thinking of humans as lesser beings, can Dais re-learn what it means to be human, or has the Dynasty turned him into something...else?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Remedy for Boredom

**Author's Note:**

> After re-watching all the anime and the OVAs, it struck me just how meant for each other Dais and Kento are. Hence, this.  
> Also:  
> 1) I am using American-dub names because they are what I'm familiar with.  
> 2) This is a slow-building relationship fic that will eventually have sex. But, the romance and relationship takes precedence.  
> 3) Pardon any errors in the manuscript.   
> Otherwise, please enjoy and review if the mood strikes you.

**Being Human**

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Dais said dryly.

“Oh, come _on_ ,” Sekhmet drawled.  “You’ve been bored, too.”

“Now that Lord Talpa has been dethroned, the Dynasty has been reduced to dozens—maybe hundreds—of small, petty warlords trying to fill the power void,” Kale chimed in. 

“Which is why we should stay.  To make sure that things don’t get out of hand,” Dais replied calmly.

“Kayura is more than capable of quelling any insurrection that gains influence,” Sekhmet said as he picked out the threading of a pillow on the pile he was sitting in.  “She doesn’t need our help.  I think she rather enjoys it—perhaps a hold over from her time as a Dynasty warrior.”

Dais rubbed the bridge of his nose.  He _hated_ being reminded that she wiped the floor with them on multiple occasions and that only Anubis’ sacrifice brought her back to her ‘good’ self.  He had a feeling the final battle would have ended _much_ differently had she been in it. 

The three remaining former-Dynasty warlords were together in what served as a War Room, the rice-paper doors rattling slightly each time a patrol passed.  The magicked pieces that signified different warlords and armies shuffled quietly on the raised map that took up the center of the room as the three men stared at each other.

Dais had a bad feeling that things were about to get far more complicated than necessary.

“You—” he began.

“Oh, get the stick out of your ass, Dais,” Sekhmet interrupted.

“Bet you’re just scared,” Kale said slyly. 

Dais frowned and barely kept himself from showing his annoyance.  Doing that would only gratify them.  “Me?  _Scared_?”

Kale smirked.  “Why else wouldn’t you want to go into the Human World?  We still have _our_ armor—who can touch us?”

“The Ronin seem to have entered a kind of… _retirement._   They won’t be a problem even if something _does_ happen,” Sekhmet added as his nails pried loose tightly stitched threads in the pillow he sat on.

“But it won’t be that _easy_ to blend into the Human world,” Dais said.  “You two have faces that aren’t exactly forgettable, and it’s been over 400 years since any of us lived in the human world.  You saw how much it has changed since we agreed to serve the Dynasty—all the stone and metal and glass.  The strange vehicles, accents, clothing, social system...need I go on?”

Sekhmet and Kale shared a _look_ and Dais barely kept himself from sighing.  “You’re set on this, aren’t you?”

“See, that’s the _fun_ ,” Sekhmet said cheerfully, the rip of fabric loud in the soft quiet.  “We’ll be so in over our heads that it’ll be a challenge worthy of a Dynasty Warlord!”

“Then _go_. Why bother telling _me_?”

“Because we thought you’d have the balls to join us,” Kale replied.

“I have the gonads to be _responsible,_ unlike you two,” Dais drawled.  “I give you two weeks before you come back.”

“I think you’ll be surprised, Dais,” Sekhmet said as he pushed himself out of the pile of pillows, leaving one with stuffing spilling out of holes he had clawed into the fabric.  “I think we’ll be seeing _you_ in the Human World.  One month, tops.”

“One month?  One week,” Kale said and shook his head condescendingly. 

“Try not to get killed,” Dais retorted.  “That’d be embarrassing.”

Kale rolled his eyes as Sekhmet snickered. 

“Bye-bye, Miss Dais,” Sekhmet cooed and barely evaded a knife Dais threw at him.  Sekhmet cackled his way down the hallway as Kale gave Dais a mocking salute before leaving the room as well.

Dais ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily.  _I’m not sure if I’m glad that they’re out of my hair or not._

“What had Sekhmet so cheerful?” Kayura asked as she entered, her gaze turned towards where the other two warlords had exited.

 “He insulted me and is going to inflict himself on the unsuspecting human world,” Dais drawled and looked to the map that detailed the activity throughout the Dynasty. 

“He’s going to the Human World,” Kayura repeated slowly.

“Not as a warlord,” Dais said as the girl as she came up beside him.  “As a human.  Or as close to human as the lunatic can come.”

“And Kale is going with him?”

“He is.”

“But you’re not.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Dais gestured to the map before them.  “Because of this. I’d like to keep things as under control as possible.”

“That’s awfully sweet of you, warlord,” Kayura said with a small, slightly mocking smile.

Dais barely kept a frown off his face.  “The Dynasty isn’t a small place.  While your abilities as the last of the Ancients might give you sway over much of it, you’re not all-powerful.  Smaller warlords could band together and attempt to seize control of everything with an army not even you could stop.”

“I’m surprised that you care so much,” Kayura said, leaning on the Staff of the Ancients. 

 “Should I _not_ care?”

“Oh, no.  Feel free to care.  I’ll take any help I can get.”

Dais had the strong urge to rub his eye in frustration.  _Why does everyone delight in insulting me?_

“How long do you think they’ll last out there?”

“I have no idea,” Dais said and watched a figure representing one of the more vicious warlords that had popped up move to encompass the army of a weaker-willed one.  “The novelty of it will wear off on them quickly, I suspect.”

Kayura hummed in acknowledgement.  “Kale or Sekhmet first?”

“Kale,” Dais answered after a moment’s thought.  “Sekhmet will find ways to entertain himself for much longer.”

“Really? I would think he’d get bored more quickly.”

“The Human World is larger than the Dynasty, I believe.  I’m sure he’ll be wanted for _some_ crime in every country that exists there before he decides to come back.”

Kayura snickered.

Dais frowned as he watched the pieces dance across the board.  “A battle is brewing.” 

“Oh?”

Dais nodded.  “Look.” He pointed to a banner that was quickly overtaking the northern part of the map.  “He’s gaining power.  Too much, too quickly.  I know him—I’ve had spies watching him for decades.  He can’t be left alone to accrue a following.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Kayura said.  “You just hold down everything here.”

Dais was about to protest, but Kayura had left before he could utter even a sound.

“I hate that woman,” he muttered to himself as he rubbed his eye.  Dais pushed away from the map and walked out of the room towards his quarters.  He sidestepped a poison trap Sekhmet had left for him as he thought.

 _What will it be like without them here?_ Dais mused.  _Certainly quieter._

He reached his quarters and changed out of his subarmor into more casual clothing, his shoulders falling slightly as the cloth settled on him.

He sat down before his low desk and took out a rather guilty pleasure of his—reading up on the Human World.  Once things in the Dynasty had settled down slightly, Dais had become interested in what he had missed from the time that he had fallen in with Talpa.

Over 400 years had changed many things.  Devices had been developed that Dais would never have even _fathomed_ during his time as a human, wars had been fought that cost countless lives, weapons of destruction on an unimaginable scale had been unleashed.  Diseases that would have caused swaths of death had cures, the environment had changed, the roles of women and men had shifted, there was contact with all sorts of bizarre cultures…it was bewildering. 

Still, he was happier staying in the Dynasty and reading up on the insanity that was the human world than being there.  It was almost like a novel that way. 

He was perusing a history book he had retrieved during a secret foray into the realm of the Ronin Warriors when the door slid open to reveal a rather satisfied-looking Kayura. 

“Back already?” Dais asked blandly. 

“It was nothing you needed to wor—really, Dais?”

Dais looked at the technology manual detailing ‘computers’ and ‘cell phones’ and all sorts of devices that made his head spin that was lying on the floor beside him and barely kept his face from flushing. He settled for giving her a haughty glare that she shrugged off.

“You seem more interested in the human world than they,” Kayura said as she stepped inside his room and closed the door behind her.  “Why don’t you _go there_?”

“Knowing about the human world is one thing,” Dais said.  “Actually surviving there is another.”

“So you’re scared?”

Dais snorted and shook his head.  “Why does everyone mistake caution for fear?”

“Go, Dais,” Kayura said as she sat beside him and plucked the history book out of his hands.  “Live a little.”

Dais looked at the small library he had scattered around him and heaved an inward sigh.  He was more prepared than the other warlords were to exist in human society as he had correct expectations of the human world.  He just needed ‘money’, but, from what he had read, _anything_ from the Dynasty would be considered a ‘historical artifact’ and therefore of interest to collectors. 

It was tempting, but he would hate to prove Kale and Sekhmet right.

“Just so you know, if you go to, hm, _Japan_ , which is where the Gates have traditionally opened into, you won’t come across the other warlords,” Kayura said ‘absently’.  “However, you _will_ run into the Ronin Warriors.”

Dais tapped his fingers against his knees and looked at the technical manuals before him.  “No.”

“Why?”

“I’m not like the two fools who go charging off at whim,” Dais drawled.  “I need to know some things first, plan a little.”

“That’s just reasons to _not_ go because you’re lazy or scared.”

“I am _not scared_ ,” Dais hissed, temper waxing.  “I’m prudent.  I don’t have the same fallbacks as when we went into the human world before.  I want to be prepared.”

“You and your plans,” Kayura said as she rolled her eyes.  “Fine.  Stall all you want.  Just be helpful like you said you would.”

Dais glared at the doorway once she left.  _Now I want to stay here just to irk her.  Bitch._

Dais looked at the tomes surrounding him and ran a finger along the band that held his eyepatch in place.

If there was one thing that would distinguish him, it would be the lack of one of his eyes.  He needed to figure out how to work around _that_ if he wanted to blend in at all.  He had a feeling that not many humans wore eyepatches.  At least, he hadn’t seen many among the humans that they had captured.

Then there was _that_ problem.  He didn’t think of himself as human, even though he technically was.  He had left his humanity behind over 400 years ago.  Perhaps he didn’t even know how to _be_ human.

Dais closed the technological manual before him and brooded at the tatami floor. 

What did it mean, anyway, to be human?  Was it a language?  A way of acting?  A certain perspective on the world?  He had been divorced from his humanity for so long that he felt that only his _appearance_ could be called ‘human.’  What was history for the human world had been his present.  He wasn’t entirely sure that he would be able to reconcile himself with the situation that had evolved.  He was, almost literally, stuck in the past.

He was surprised that it was the clothing that bothered him the most.  _Cars_ and _computers_ and _cell phones_ were things he could deal with—they were just tools, albeit confusing and complicated ones.  How buildings were constructed didn’t perturb him much, and he was actually glad that it would take a whole lot more to bring them down than a fire.  He was even okay with the gender roles—Kayura had proved on multiple occasions that women were far from weak.  The clothing _baffled_ him, though.

 _And if I want to blend in, I have to wear it,_ he thought with distaste as he flipped through a ‘fashion magazine’ that he had acquired.

However, the idea of seeing Kale and Sekhmet thus attired made him snicker. 

 _I would bet that they get it wrong at first,_ he thought with a small feral grin. 

He closed the strange, thin, paper-book and closed his eyes.

He was more torn about going to the Human World than he would like to admit.  Of course his duty to the Dynasty came first, but that didn’t mean that the prospect of something different wasn’t exciting in its own way.

The option, now that it had been suggested, bothered him unduly.  He transformed back into his subarmor and left his room, walking towards the training grounds for the sake of movement.  He had no intention of training—he wasn’t in the mood, and Kale wasn’t around to provide target practice—but it would be someplace outside of the palace halls, and that would be welcome.

He had a feeling that being stuck alone with Kayura all the time would also wear on him and drive him either insane or into the human world sooner rather than later.

Dais stepped out into the courtyard, ignored the soldiers that sparred in the rings, and looked up at the sky. 

He remembered the eclipse clearly, even though he had been trapped, powerless, inside a tower meant to help merge the Dynasty with the Human World.  It had left him burning with shame at his own incompetence, and the feeling was magnified by the fact that the Ronins managed to not only escape, but also defeated Talpa. 

It did make him wonder, however, how things would have been had Talpa succeeded in the merger. 

He let his mind wander as he watched the soldiers practicing and the tension in his shoulders slowly notched up. 

Sure, things had calmed down from the first few turbulent months, but the power void left all the warlords in the Dynasty seeking domination.  That he had also heard whispers of non-Dynasty entities in the Netherworld made him uneasy.  Perhaps the partial-merger had alerted other Netherworld-like civilizations that they existed and were powerful enough to force their presence into the Human World. 

Dais bit back and sigh and schooled his face into an expressionless mask.

The Dynasty was his home, anymore.  He had fought too hard to keep it under Talpa’s regime for it to be anything but.  He knew he had a myriad of enemies and kept tabs on all of them.  He didn’t want to leave the Dynasty, didn’t want to leave it defenseless, since he and the other warlords had been its defense.

 Still, it might be a pleasant diversion to figure out the logistics of existing in the Human World. 

Dais turned and faded into the shadows, his mind already leaping ahead to what he might have to do to worm his way into mortal society.


	2. Chapter 2

Dais had decided that if he wanted to live in the human world he had to anesthetize himself to what had changed in the centuries since he had been away, so that he wasn’t so obviously out-of-place, or, perhaps, out-of-time.  On his previous trips into Tokyo he had used some of the Dynasty’s influence to drive the humans out of the surrounding area and make the ‘electronics’ cease working.  However, he was now planning on going into the human world without the buffer of the Dynasty, and it made him oddly nervous.

 _Stop it,_ he chided himself as he looked at the portal that opened to a side-alley that would lead into the bustling streets of Tokyo.  _You’re a warlord of the Dynasty.  Reticence in the face of a challenge is unbecoming._

He looked at himself and grimaced.  The first order of business would be to get appropriate clothing.  Getting it wouldn’t be too difficult, especially with his illusions, but it was a matter of how long he could sustain a particular illusion and move around _quietly_ in his armor.  While it was true that something inherent in the armor made his movement nearly silent, his weapons tended to increase his size significantly.

He sighed, called on his armor, and stepped through the portal, wrapping ‘invisibility’ around himself (in reality, it was a simple trick on a person’s mind—make them look slightlyto the side, ignoring his presence).

Before, because of the Dynasty’s presence, the throb of life had been silenced, but without invoking the darker power, the cacophony immediately assaulted Dais.  The chatter of humans.  The deep thrum of ‘subways’ moving beneath his feet, the clatter of above-ground ‘trains’, the honks of ‘cars’ and the revving of ‘bus’ engines.  ‘Planes’ roared overhead, music was pumped out of ground-level stores, ‘phones’ rang incessantly, and ‘bicycle’ bells sounded out to warn pedestrians.  High-heeled shoes clacked against the concrete as ‘sneakers’ created dead thuds at each step.  Dais could barely hear himself breathe.

Although he wasn’t entirely sure he _wanted_ to breathe.  The air was tainted with a miasma of smoke, exhaust, garbage, the putrid human-scent, unknown food, perfumes and colognes…it was overwhelming.  He was glad he had his mask down—it saved him from the assault slightly.

Dais walked silently to the end of the alley, sidestepping someone passed out against the side of a building that seemed to touch the dome of the sky.

Oh, he had known how many humans they had taken into the Dynasty when they invaded, but he had been distant from it.  Afterall, they were nothing more than cattle, a resource for the Dynasty and nothing more.  But now, there was no distance and the press of bodies was suffocating.

Dais took a few quick steps back.  He hadn’t seen so many people anywhere but on the battlefield—no, perhaps there were even more here.  That they seemed to ignore each other completely was absolutely astonishing.  To be surrounded with so much _life_ and to be able to treat the overcrowding like it was nothing!

He cautiously approached the edge of the darkness again.

There was so much _color_ , too. Over-bright colors, some that he had no name for, were sported on human bodies, spelled out foreign words on buildings, reflected against windows and metal.  Bizarre patterns covered countless surfaces, morphed lines and stylized flowers, materials that shimmered and glittered and moved in manners that made Dais dizzy. 

There were foreigners in the mass of humans, people that seemed bleached compared to his countrymen.  Perhaps the sun was weaker where they lived, and the deeper darkness made them pale.   Or maybe it was so bright that it leeched all the color from them.  But, then, what of the people with deep brown skin?  Where would _they_ come from?  Sure, he had seen the diversity of humanity in pictures, had seen names of countries thrown around, but he couldn’t begin to figure out how to place them in his world-view. 

The human world was much more manageable when under the Dynasty’s influence than when they were allowed to run it on their own.

Dais took a deep breath and closed his eye.  This feeling of weakness wasn’t him.  He would center himself and move on—he needed the clothes to blend in, and once he had them he could desensitize himself to being surrounded by such a volume of humans.

He slunk out into the crowd and stuck to the edges, people unconsciously moving around his cloaked form.  The moment he recognized a department store, he shadowed a gaggle of girls in before the door could close behind them.  He moved slowly to the ‘Men’s’ section and lightly touched a pair of ‘jeans’.  He wanted to rub the bridge of his nose in frustration.  He had no idea what ‘size’ he would be, and wasn’t entirely sure what was appropriate for the age-range he looked like. 

Dais heaved a silent sigh and looked at a posed fake man nearby.  Surely it was modeling the latest ‘fashion’, and would therefore give him an idea.

Dais eventually chose a few pants and jeans that appeared like they would fit him, picked up a few shirts, and ‘underwear’.  He had no idea what he would look like when all was said and done, but he figured it would be an…experience. 

He extended the illusion to the clothes he had bundled over his arms and quickly vanished back into a Dynasty portal he opened.  It was an acute relief once he was back in the comfortable quiet of the castle and he let his armor fall away, leaving him in his subarmor with human clothing balled in his arms. 

He was walking back to his suite when Kayura turned a corner.  “There you are Dais, I’ve been—what are _those_?”

Dais kept his face impassive.  “The beginning steps in a plan.”

“Right,” Kayura said slowly and fingered the cloth before Dais jerked it away.  “Steps in a plan.”

“Is there something you need?” Dais drawled.  “I thought that you had everything in control.”

“Don’t be fresh with me, warlord,” Kayura responded sweetly.  “If I truly needed your help, I would ask for it.”

“Then why were you looking for me?” Dais asked and shifted the bundle of clothing in his arms. 

Kayura let out a long, low breath and said, “Was wondering if you had gone to join the others already.”

Dais shook his head and shifted the clothes again.  “If you should _ever_ need help, I’ll be in my suite,” Dais drawled and passed her—his arms were getting tired.

He was relieved when he could dump his clothes on his futon.  They had been heavier than anticipated, even with the strength gifted him by his armor. 

Dais shifted to his non-combat clothing and knelt down beside his bedding.  He carefully laid out each piece and examined it, poking at the buttons and zippers, figuring out how everything worked together.  He figured that it would be easier to determine if the shirts fit or not, and so shrugged off his haori and pushed the top of his kimono down so his chest and arms were bare.  He picked up what the magazines called a T-Shirt and tried to pull it on over his head, fumbling to get his arms and head through the appropriate holes.  He decided that it was too tight and so tossed it away from the pile of yet-to-be-tried-on pieces. 

The first button-down shirt he retrieved _did_ fit, although he personally thought it was too much effort and looked slightly silly.  Still, it was a muted color and that was important—he didn’t need to be wearing the ultra-bright colors he saw some humans wearing; that just seemed obnoxious for the sake of being obnoxious.  He found two T-shirts that fit him and made mental note of the size on the ‘tag’ on the back of the fabric. 

He put the button-down shirt back on before untying his obi and letting the hakama and the rest of his kimono fall to the floor.  He picked up the ‘underwear’ package and, after fighting with the packaging, managed to get a pair free.  The underwear felt _very_ strange, but he figured that it would be better than letting his junk be rubbed raw by the unfamiliar fabric of modern pants. 

The pants were much harder to figure out than the shirts, and Dais was glad that he had chosen a broader range of pant sizes than shirt sizes.  Out of the pants pile, he managed to find two that fit relatively comfortably. 

 _At least I have something to go off of now,_ he thought and looked at himself, pulling at the waistband of the jeans in discomfort.  _And I can attempt to interact and move within that hive._

Dais tossed all the clothing that didn’t fit him into his closet, deciding to figure out what to do with it later.  Perhaps it would fit Sekhmet or Kale.  Or Kayura. 

Dais ran a hand through his hair, and his fingers caught on the band of his eyepatch. 

 _Sunglasses_? He wondered.  They would hide his eyes and protect his one remaining good eye, so were probably worth consideration.  _And I suppose I can dye my hair,_ he thought, pulling a white strand into his vision. 

 _All this for what?_ He wondered as he suppressed a scowl. _Do I really want to live in the human world?  I wasn’t fond of humans when I_ was _one—400 years will not be long enough to change human nature._

Dais looked at himself again and shook his head.  _I shouldn’t allow those three to put ideas in my head.  This is nonsense._  

Dais changed out of the modern clothes and tossed them into his closet as well before he closed the sliding door with finality _._   He put his usual garments back on and smoothed the cloth over his chest as a frown pulled at his lips.

Part of him wanted to go to the Human World.  Part of him said he was an idiot to even contemplate it.  He wasn’t human—not anymore.  Maybe never again. 

There was also the disconcerting idea that he might become so steeped in the illusion he sought to create that it would slowly become _his_ reality. But wouldn’t that be a crowning achievement in his craft? He was, if anything, very thorough in his work (which was why it had taken Sekhmet three years to find his way out of a rather vindictive illusion Dais had crafted).  If he could convince those he interacted with that he hadn’t spent the last 400-plus years thinking of them as nothing more than an expendable resource _without_ using his armor…well, it would say something both about humanity and him.

Still, he’d hate to prove Kale and Sekhmet right.  Anyway, his duty _was_ to the Dynasty and there were more than enough problems that demanded his attention—Kayura was good at putting down insurrections, but Dais tried to stop any conflicts before they came to fruition.  It would also be gratifying to see them come crawling back to the Dynasty so he could shove a smug ‘I told you so’ in their faces.

In truth, it wouldn’t be too difficult to resist going to the human world.  Yes, it was now a preoccupation, but if there was one thing Dais had mastery over, it was his own mind—he refused to allow anyone to ensnare the Master of Illusion in one.  Therefore, he’d be able to starve off his curiosity to something manageable. 

He went over to his desk and picked up a scroll, breaking the seal after taking a moment to make sure that there was no trap attached to it—yes, Sekhmet wasn’t around anymore, but that didn’t mean that Dais’ life was safe.

Dais sat down, took out the key to the code, and began to slowly work his way through the report.

He had a feeling that none of the warlords or Kayura really understood what his position in the Dynasty hierarchy really was.  He was a Warlord, yes, but he had also served as Talpa’s spymaster.  The Dynasty was very large and full of mostly stupid but greedy beings, and _someone_ needed to keep tabs on it all.  As Talpa didn’t _trust_ very well, he had assigned Dais, his Warlord of Illusion—and the person who had served him longest—to make sure that everything in the Dynasty ran smoothly and according to Talpa’s designs.

It had been an interesting logistical problem, initially.  The turnover on the lower tiers of power was swift, and humanity was constantly expanding the Dynasty with their negative emotions, which meant that Dais had to work very hard to find stable places to attach the beginning of his network. Then, it was a matter of coercing people to become his minions and finding ways to ensure their loyalty. 

It had taken the better part of a century and a half to finally establish his web, but since then it had simply been a matter of tugging on the feelers and making sure the minions remembered whom they served. 

His web had undergone a significant upheaval and unraveling due to Talpa’s defeat and the subsequent surge in petty warlords grasping at the power void.  He had regained most of his moorings, but some of them didn’t sink as deep as he would have liked, and _that_ made him both displeased and nervous.

He had also lost many spies in the chaos, but those were obviously the less skilled ones.  There were always more minions to be had.

He looked at the decoded report and frowned.  Aggression between most of the smaller warlords had diminished, primarily because the Netherworld was split between four ruling powers (five if Dais included himself and Kayura).   This wasn’t a good development.  Yes, it gave him fewer targets he had to keep an eye on, but it meant that he would have to work harder at it. 

Life was easier when the petty power-mongers could keep each other occupied—now that factions had coalesced, he had to pay even closer attention.

It meant that he would have to go and infiltrate the ranks on his own, if just to find dissenters who would be willing to work for him just to cause the downfall of the faction they were unwillingly a part of.

Dais destroyed the decoded report and stood with a sigh.  He wouldn’t bother telling Kayura where he was going, just in case.  It was better for his movements to be known only to himself, especially in a delicate matter such as the one he was about to attend to.

Dais summoned his armor and his good eye narrowed.  Slowly, the structure and color of it shifted until it appeared to be nothing more than a typical Dynasty soldier’s.  He left his room and stalked through the palace corridors, pleased that no-one looked his way—and was even more amused how Kayura just walked past him without throwing even a second glance his way.

He left into the courtyard, summoned a horse, and took off towards where the first faction’s base of operations was.

\--

A leader who ruled through fear was only the leader as long as the fear didn't turn to anger.  Talpa had initially ruled through fear alone, but the ruthless slaughter of his enemies had convinced most of the Dynasty that following him was better than being dead—that Talpa had also gained the support of the Netherspirits had solidified his hold on the Dynasty.  Along with the superior strength of his warlords, he had ruled without question, although not without challenge. 

Sekhmet had very much enjoyed taking care of any and all challengers.

Dais was both amused and annoyed that the most of the different factions decided to use grandiose titles to distinguish themselves, and he knew that he’d eventually develop a code for each of them.  This entailed using names that he usually reserved for Sekhmet, but the man wasn’t around to protest such.

The first faction called themselves the Devil’s Children.

The second faction called themselves the Ogres.

The third faction called themselves the Shadow Clans.

The fourth faction called themselves the Army of the Rising Sun.

Each of them occupied particular terrain that helped to define what strengths and weaknesses in resources and manpower that they would suffer from; who would seek territory for materials, who would have the most to lose if caught unprepared, who would conquer for manpower, who had the most to lose overall, and who had the least. 

He already had contacts among the Children, Ogres, and Clans but found himself woefully uninformed about the Army.  Nonetheless, he needed to pay the spies in the other factions a visit and to generate new ones to make sure his older ones behaved. 

The Devil’s Children faction controlled a steady source of ore and water, but had limited access to other supplies.  Dais had entered their ranks in the guise of a captured soldier, and an unremarkable one at that.  He had discovered that most proud warriors didn’t watch their tongues around perceived weaker opponents, since they were sure of their superiority.  

According to idle gossiping, Dais learned that they had either recruited or dragooned some of the best warriors, armorers, and weaponsmiths into their fold.  The head of the Children was presumptuous enough to dub himself Akuma, and controlled his troops primarily through intimidation and sheer strength.  However, no warrior was invincible, so Dais was sure that it would take only pressure in the right places for the Children to collapse into internal strife that would tear the faction apart; however, doing so would disperse the warriors to the other factions, and Dais didn’t mind having martial power concentrated in one place.  Admittedly, strength of arms wasn’t everything, and that would also be the downfall of the Children.  It was simply a waiting game.  Hopefully there would be conflicts between the other groups that would cull the weaker warriors for him.  Dais always preferred that he not have to do any work. 

The Shadow Clans were guided by an entity that Dais hadn’t unearthed a name for, although he had a suspicion that the true power was elsewhere.  However, one could generate only so many figureheads.  Encouraging subversive behavior within the ranks would help hasten the demise of the faction, and Dais had found at least 9 peons willing to betray their faction.  Getting rid of all the brains, which the faction seemed built upon, would leave them without the tactical advantage that they needed.  They had, fortunately for Dais, chosen an area that wasn’t easily protected, although it did afford them more resources than any of the other factions.  Still, get rid of the intelligence that kept the Clans a step ahead and they would fall victim to the others who lusted after their position.

The Ogres were more worrisome than the others due to the presence of a bureaucracy that suggested a sophisticated level of organization.  Admittedly, that was needed since they had picked a well-protected area that was, however, scarce on the things needed to sustain an army.  If given a chance, the Ogres might be able to build a country, a civilization, and Dais very much wanted to avoid that.  To his delight, bureaucracy left a great many loopholes and opportunities to plant seeds of confusion and doubt.  Tangle the red tape enough and frustrate the soldiers and citizens…well, it would take longer and he’d probably have to give them more ground than the others, but he could bring them down, too.

The Army was the faction that made Dais wary.  The Army _appeared_ to be the ‘smallest’ faction, but Dais was almost entirely certain that was a lie.  The ‘soldiers’ were far too well-equipped to be simple grunts, the few structures that were built were built to _last_ , and they watched everything, watched _him_ , too carefully.  What was presented was a small force meant to simply assert a presence in Dynasty politics, but it was a carefully constructed lie that only the truly observant would see through.  They were sitting on a pile of resources that the other three would discount, they had spies in the other factions, they were aggressively recruiting, and they were cunning, careful.  The leader was never referred to directly, and the way that they danced around even _mentioning_ the person made Dais itch.  There was something familiar about everything, Dais felt he could almost see a shadow of his tactics in what they were doing.  He knew he had no chance to find any spy in the Army, as it was likely that any one who he recruited would instead go back to their boss, whomever he or she was, and tell them about Dais’ attempt, and he’d rather keep any advantage he had. 

Although he wasn’t sure he even had any advantage.  He had no sources, his web somehow didn’t permeate into the Army.  He’d have to contact one of his best spies and have her be “recruited” into the fourth faction.  He hated to take her away from her current assignment, but he had two others keeping track of movement between the Dynasty and the other Nether-realms that were now intertwining.

 _She’ll probably be happier with this assignment anyway,_ he thought and turned his horse in the direction of her post.  _It’s even higher stakes._

As Dais rode through the undulating terrain of the Dynasty he couldn’t help the small smile that quirked at his lips.  There was something to be said about being out in the field instead of waiting at the center of his web.  Sure, he’d have a pile of reports waiting for him when he got back, and a likely smug Kayura, who would incorrectly assume that he had left for the Human World, but it was worth it.

The off-hand reminder of the Human World nagged him as he rode, no matter how much he tried to shove it out of his head.  His duty was to the Dynasty first, himself second.  The Human World could wait until he resolved the issue at hand.

He wasn’t sure how long that would take.

He could tell that he was coming close to the boundary from how the environment seemed caught in flux, unable to clearly decide whether it wanted to continue to be the Dynasty or become something different.  He passed a few bizarre corpses that his horse shied away from, even though he stopped at each of them.

Some were human-looking.  Others Dais couldn’t find a shred of something in his experience that he could apply.  Each wore different armor, if it had armor; used different weapons, if it used weapons; had different faces, limbs, and Dais only wished he could find out what language they spoke, how they thought, how dangerous they were.  His curiosity had to wait, however, and he had a feeling he would end up encountering at least _one_ kind in his progress through the Dynasty.  It was inevitable.

Dais brought his horse up to a stop at the base of a small hill and tied it to a tree before climbing up the pile of rocks that were actually cleverly disguised stairs he had made.  He reached the apex and let out a long, low whistle, not as a signal, but out of surprise.

It was easy to see how the Dynasty interacted with the other Nether-realms that sought to impinge on it—the bunches and whorls and desolation caused by the friction.  Half-corpses of both Dynasty soldiers and _other_ things littered the area even more densely, and the acrid tang on Nether-spirit magic hung in the air.

Dais felt his spy behind him and smiled faintly.  Dais only barely avoided a strike to his left and immediately blocked the follow-up attack.  He caught the woman’s ankle before she could bring her leg back down from her kick and let his illusion fall away.

Dais let the woman’s ankle go and she dropped to one knee, a fist going over her heart, although he could tell she was annoyed.

“I should have known,” she said in a faintly echoing alto.

“You’re getting bored.”

She stood and looked out at the quasi-battlefield.  “I don’t know if _bored_ is the right word.”

“The Dynasty’s been broken into five pieces.”

“Oh?”

“Kayura and I retain most of the control, and two of the other four pieces are going to fold soon anyway.”

“And the other two?”

“I already have agents in one.  I need you to infiltrate the other.”

Tano stood, her eyes glowing gold beneath the deep shadow of her helm.  “You think it’s a worthy challenge?”

Dais crossed his arms.  “Would I be asking you if I didn’t?”

She inclined her head slightly and the golden glow faded.  She clicked the claws that tipped her gauntlets together and said, “So?”

“What is here is only the surface of a much larger organization.  Find out what that larger organization is: what they want, their structure, their leadership, the extent of their power, the danger level that they pose.  You should know what to look for.”

“I could die.”

“You always could.”

“Contact the same as usual?”

“This is where you’ll find them,” Dais said and handed her a small scroll.  “There are a few details there, too, mostly about the structure and recruitment processes I observed.  It’s not much, but you’re smart.”

She took it with the pads of her fingers and hummed.

“I leave this to you,” Dais said and let his illusion reform.

Tano vanished and Dais waited for a few minutes, watching the barriers clash and whirl around each other.  Once he felt her _finally_ leave, he sighed softly. 

She was reliable and extremely thorough, yes, but her loyalty was always conditional, as were most of his spies.  If she sensed any weakness in him…well, their relationship would come to a quick and bloody end.

He walked back down the stairs and mounted his horse.  He turned it back towards the palace and began the return journey by way of the rest of the Dynasty he hadn’t checked out recently.

While most of the Dynasty was, indeed, soldiers and nether-spirits, there were more way than that to manifest negative emotion than just those, which was why he passed homesteads tended by creatures that most Japanese would consider mythological. 

The Dynasty, where not in conflict, could actually be quite scenic—certainly more beautiful than the Human World.  The golds and deep blues, the richness of the land, the clarity in the air were all far superior to the place that humans had polluted.

He was about to return to a straight path to the palace when he was forced to skid to a stop to avoid running into a group of unfamiliar soldiers.

He immediately unhitched his scythes and lashed out, sinking the blades into the surrounding environment.  Webbing shot out from the impact points and enveloped the soldiers, thus binding them.  Dais smiled smugly beneath his mask at how they fought against his web.  It was always satisfying to see how much faster they were captured when they struggled.

Once well ensnared, Dais wove an illusion into the spider-thread and all five froze, caught in the nightmare he had conjured.

Dais returned his weapon to its holster and stepped down, patting his horse on her shoulder before approaching the warriors.

Every so often one would twitch, probably from running into some creature or another that their own mind conjured for them to combat.  He turned the web clear and frowned.  They were a mixed sex group, and seemed to have use of the technology that the Dynasty’s mystical nature rendered useless.  From how the guns were stowed away, however, Dais deduced that even coming from another Netherworld, they were forced to behave according to the Dynasty’s rules.  Although that they made it through without undue harm was worrisome. 

Dais killed four of them and disposed of the bodies before returning to the chosen survivor.  He took away the man’s weapons, armor, and valuables and tossed them into a pack on his horse.  Better to deal with someone who couldn’t hurt him at all than someone who was desperate _and_ armed.

Dais dropped the illusion of anonymity and took off his helmet so that the man would see that Dais was, too, a human—whatever that might count for—before releasing the soldier’s body from the web casing and his mind from the illusion.

The man gasped, jerked, and fell to his knees, panting.

“Are you hurt?” Dais asked, weaving concern into his voice.  He made sure it seemed that he was only in his subarmor, since being in full armor would probably not allow him to get _any_ answers.

The man’s head snapped up and he stared at Dais. 

“Are you hurt?” Dais repeated slowly and the man’s shoulders tensed.

“You can speak?” the man asked in a scratchy bass. 

“As can you,” Dais replied and the man blinked before a laugh forced its way out of him.

Dais could tell the man was about to ask something when he noticed the lack of his comrades, followed by the absence of everything else he had brought with him.

Dais held up his hands in pacification and easily dodged when the man lunged at him.

“Hey!” he protested, doing his best to sound hurt.

“Where is everyone?  Where’s my stuff?”

Dais frowned.  “You were the only one here when I arrived.”

The man balked, although obviously didn’t trust Dais. 

“You’re not from here.”

“I am—was—part of a recon team,” he said, surprised at the truthfulness in the statement.  The man’s mind was disorganized, which meant Dais could nudge him into telling the truth.

“From another Netherworld than this one,” Dais prompted.

“I don’t know.  I just know that suddenly this place suddenly appeared with the others,” the man said, and a look of horror was slowly blooming on his face at the information he was giving away.

“The others.”

“I’ve been to them, we know them—but this one is new.  Theory is that it has been held apart by some kind of ‘mystical’ force.”  The man was starting to try and figure out _why_ he was saying so much, but Dais had a firm grip on his mind.

Dais hummed.  “How many other places are there than here?”

The man shrugged.  “A lot.  This is the first new one we’ve found in…centuries, though.”

“Aha.  And travel between the worlds is easy?”

“Not _easy_ , but doable.”  Dais was having more trouble forcing answers out of him, and decided that he had nearly gotten enough to start.  He didn’t feel like torturing the man, and didn’t have the correct equipment anyway.

“So there might be more of you coming?” Dais asked.

“Who are you?”

Dais shook his head and caught the man’s mind in another illusion, causing the soldier to freeze and tremble in place.

Dais let the illusion cloaking himself to switch to the grunt-image before he killed the last man and tossed him into the same grave as his comrades. 

_So.  There are many worlds, who will be able to travel between here and there without much difficulty._

Dais mounted his horse and kicked it into a gallop, heading straight for the palace.  _This…does not bode well.  An impending war—multiple wars, even—combined with invasion from outside Netherworlds.  And, of course, Kale and Sekhmet decided to leave just before this all came to light.  My luck._

He shed his illusion only once he was back in the palace, his mind in too many places to maintain it for much longer anyway.  He reached his quarters and immediately tugged on the string that released the hatch where his reports collected and he cast off his armor onto the stand beside his desk and sat down in his subarmor, picking up the first report.

There was much to do and no time to do it in.

He was working through the fourth of fifteen reports when he heard his door slide aside.  He wasn’t expecting the interruption, so instinctively cast an illusion, albeit a clumsy one.

He debated letting Kayura stay a little longer in the hasty illusion he had crafted, but decided that it was probably best to let her have her mind.  He released Kayura and turned to face her as she shook the metaphorical cobwebs from her mind.

“Dais,” she said, reproach in her voice.

“I’m busy,” Dais snapped.

“Oh?  You weren’t in the Human World?”

Dais snorted and shook his head.  “We have visitors.”

“Visitors.”

“When Talpa tried to merge the two worlds, the Netherworld came into contact with _other_ Netherworlds, and now denizens from the other worlds are finding ways in.”

Kayura’s eyebrows rose slightly.  “When were you going to tell me about this?”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” Dais responded.  “I’m sure you know about the factions, however.”

Kayura shrugged.  “They’re nothing.”

“Of course,” Dais drawled.  “You keep on focusing on making yourself a target to keep everyone occupied.”

Kayura chuckled.  “What are you scared of, warlord?”

Dais tapped his fingers impatiently against his desk.  “I’m not scared,” Dais said calmly.  “I’m acting in the interests of the Dynasty.  You don’t wish to see it overrun by foreigners, do you?”

Kayura leaned on her staff and watched him.  Dais returned her gaze.

Dais wasn’t sure how long they had the silent battle of wills—her requesting information, he unwilling to give it—but it stretched long enough that Dais’ attention had started to wander to what new problem could possibly be on the fifth scroll.

“Fine,” Kayura eventually said.  “This is what you did, wasn’t it?”

Dais shrugged.

“It’s why I never saw you much before the Ronin Warriors,” she said slowly. 

“Close the door or leave.”

“I trust that you’ll tell me anything important you discover.”

“You are not my Master.”

“But I am the Master of the Netherworld.”

Dais wanted to tack on a “for now” but figured that it might bring calamity on them sooner than later and he wanted time to make sure the damage was minimal.

“Do you need anything else?” Dais asked mildly.

“Keep me appraised, Warlord.”

Dais gave her a dismissive wave and turned to the fifth scroll, feeling a small amount of pleasure at the scowl she directed at him and how the rice-paper door closed perhaps a tad too hard behind her.

Her statement gave him food for thought, though.  Dais was still acting as if he were the spymaster of the Dynasty, but Talpa was no longer in charge.  There was technically no true head of the Dynasty.  The remaining Warlords and Kayura had assumed the responsibility of taking care of the world, but did that make them the actual _rulers_?  Was Kayura really the head of the Dynasty?

The very thought was horrifying.

Still, she could and had wiped the floor with all of them on multiple occasions, and she was the last of the Ancient’s clan, so she was the strongest in the Dynasty, as far as he knew, and was cunning in her own right.

Dais huffed and unsealed the fifth scroll.  _Seems like I_ am _working for her.  Damn._

Every scroll brought him new and troubling information, and a headache was forming behind his eyes and at the base of his skull.  Kale and Sekhmet weren’t around to thrash anymore and he had an image to uphold in the absence of both of them, so he wasn’t quite sure how he’d deal with the tension.

The reminder of their absence, followed by the thought as to where they were at that time gave him an idea.

Perhaps being in the Human World—where he would be nobody—would be a relief.  He was still curious about it, anyway, and had at least some tools that would help him at least navigate the streets of Tokyo.  Probably with the proficiency of a foreigner, but he wasn’t aiming high given his level of exhaustion.

He looked at his armor, then shook his head.  No, no armor.  The mystical power had limits and he had pushed them for the last few days. 

He stood, cracked his back, and walked to the closet where all the clothes from the human world lay.  He picked up the ones he knew fit him and ran his fingers along the rough texture of the jeans.

_They had outfits made of materials like this.  Perhaps the different Netherworlds also connect across time._

His headache worsened.

He cloaked his armor in an illusion and put on the modern day clothing.  It still felt odd and awkward, but it was different and lighter-weight, which put less strain on his body.

He opened a portal to the mortal realm and hesitated.

Dais looked down at his outfit.  He figured that it would pass well enough, based on the magazines he had browed.  Still, he felt oddly apprehensive, even though he knew he was more than prepared for a short foray.

He stepped through the portal.

The noise assaulting him made him have to skip a step to keep his balance.  He knew that there were other places that weren’t so overwhelmingly noisy, but it seemed to him that humanity _was_ noisy, so might as well jump right into the fray.

He walked cautiously out of the alley and was about to attempt to melt into the herd when someone speaking caught him up short.

He knew it was Japanese.  He _knew_ it was Japanese.  And yet, somehow, it…wasn’t. 

 _Four hundred years has changed many things,_ he thought.  He had seen the differences in magazines and books, yes, but written word was easy to puzzle out.  Now he found himself immersed in the difference and it was…well, it didn’t help his headache.

He had received more than a few covert dirty looks for his abrupt stop in the middle of mortal traffic, but they were nothing compared to what he was used to, so he ignored them. 

 _Then, why could I understand it before?_ He wondered as he walked slowly by shops advertising everything that Dais had seen in his stolen literature. 

He turned into a pedestrian mall, which had slightly less foot traffic due to the plethora of stores, and found a place to sit down.

He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced.  He could pick up words and phrases here and there as passers-by chattered at each other, but he was certain that he would sound extremely archaic if he tried to converse.  Unfortunately, the only way to definitively learn the ‘new’ Japanese would be to consistently listen to it and then try to _speak_ it.

Ever since he had become a warrior, he had taken pride in his expansive knowledge, and that pride had always been justified and backed-up by sheer power.  But now…now he found himself at a loss.  His pride wouldn’t let him stoop to asking for help, but his intellectual curiosity about how things had changed, how they had _really_ changed, was ensnared. 

He supposed it was down to a matter of cost-benefit analysis.  Would he gain anything by knowing the new iteration of Japanese?  Would the knowledge of contemporary culture and behavioral expectations aid him in any way?

The answer to both was clearly ‘no.’  Not when he had a job to do in his home, where he was more than capable of communicating and behaving in.

He walked into a place that was marked as a bathroom, created a portal to the Dynasty, and stepped back through.

The silence was almost as deafening as the cacophony he had endured.

He changed out of his mortal clothes, and back into his usual, traditional kimono and haori, the cut and feel comforting.  He had spent _very_ little time in the mortal realm, an almost offensively short amount.  But, he had endured days without real rest or food and had a large, explosive puzzle dumped in his lap, and the last thing he needed was to feel stupid and inept at the hands of people he could easily kill.

Dais looked at the pile of books that he had on his low desk and scowled.  He’d have to get rid of them or, at least, hide them so that he wasn’t tempted again to venture into the mortal world.  It simply wasn’t worth his effort, especially given the trouble that was brewing in the Netherworld.  He needed to be there, to be in the Dynasty, so that the situation remained under his and Kayura’s control, or as much as possible.  He’d let Sekhmet and Kale have their fun running around and being fools—he had always been the responsible one, afterall. 

A part of them did wish they were around, though, just so he could throw them at the factions and find out just how dangerous the waters actually were.  Maybe he should travel into the Human World just to drag the two asses back to the Dynasty.

He rubbed his temples.  _Perhaps I just need some rest.  When was the last time I slept?_

Dais secured his rooms before passing out on his futon.

The books remained on the table.


	3. Chapter 3

Dais stood before the map in the empty War Room and rubbed his temples in an attempt to ease at least some of the pain of the constant, low-grade headache he had been suffering from. 

Two days after he had returned to the Castle and had begun to organize the Dynasty’s forces, the Children had attacked one of the Clan’s holdings.  From all accounts, it had been quite the bloodbath.

That was a week ago.

Dais hadn’t had a moment of rest since. 

A wave of his hand brought the positions of the different clans onto the map in front of him.

The reports he received from his spies were conflicting but enlightening.  They gave him conflicting death tolls, tactics, and leaders—at least his new spies.

Misha and Argen’s (who were embedded in the Children and Clans respectively) reports were more trustworthy—it was how he knew that it was the Children who made the move that had sparked what would surely turn into a Netherworld-wide war. 

Misha’s report told him that the Children had been moving around resources for some time and that the warriors had become antsy.  It was either attack or face a rebellion.  They chose the Clan, given that they had the best resources and the Children were growing short on food.  They had recruited Kobalt to develop strategies so the Children didn’t simply ‘attack, rape, pillage—rinse and repeat’.  Misha had also thrown at Dais the names of some strong and well-known warlords, which didn’t worry Dais at all.  Most warlords worked very poorly with each other (as evidenced with he and his unhappy co-workers), so he was certain that different prides would come into conflict with each other and split the faction into internal factions.  Dais was now entirely certain that unless something remarkable happened, the Children would be the first to break apart and ally themselves with other clans.

This was not something he entirely approved of.  He _liked_ having all the strongest warriors in one place.  He would have to find some way to strengthen the bond that kept them all tied loosely together. 

_Maybe uniting them in hate for the other factions?  Right now it’s mostly bloodlust and conquest for the sake of it, but if I make them feel that something more than their amusement is at stake, I might manage to keep them together long enough to suit my purposes._

A soft snap sent the tiny marks on the board into movement and a pull of his hand back zoomed in to get a better grasp of the terrain.

Misha’s report had said that the Clan’s casualties were overall worse than the Children’s, which was expected.  However, the Children had lost commanders, warlords, those who lead the armies of grunts—the Clans had lost soldiers. Soldiers were replaceable; commanders often were not.  Misha’s report gave him broad details of the movements and battle tactics that had happened on the field. 

Given that the Children had more powerful battle-hardened warriors, it was no surprise at the massive losses incurred by the Clans. 

A portion of the map turned red, signifying new territory that the Children had taken since his last reports and Dais grimaced. 

Argen’s report gave a better glimpse into the internal workings of the Clans.  The Clan knew that they were in an enviable and profitable position, and thus had been expecting an attack from one of the other factions; however, both the Ogres and Children had been gearing up, so the Clans had been torn as to whom to protect against.  This lead to forces being divided, which, of course, was a terrible tactical decision.

It seemed that the Clans were good at getting information, but were bad at figuring out how to put their intelligence into effect—which, of course, could be a front, and thus something Dais would have to watch carefully. Still, the Clans had spies and assassins on the move, which was how they took down so many of the Children’s officers; Argen’s report also indicated that there had been failed attempts on Akuma’s life.

 _That might be good for me,_ Dais thought grimly as he maneuvered the Clans’ pieces.  _It will make Akuma more observant and smarter, and that might make him a more capable leader.  Perhaps I’ll encourage more assassination attempts._

The Clans had expected to lose some ground to the Children, but the ground they had lost was apparently of no value to them and thus they had strewn the nearby fields with salt and did some slash-and-burn to prevent the Children from getting anything out of the land.  Admittedly, it also put the Clans at a disadvantage to do that, but they had much more resources still at hand.  Better to distract the Children with frustration than attempt to protect _everything_.  Especially when the Ogres were moving against them, as well—not in collusion with the Children, though, as Dais doubted that the Children as a faction would work well with anyone beside themselves.  There would be no alliances when whole: conquest or death were the only options.  That would change after the segmentation that was inevitable, but Dais could wait for that before taking his pick of which warlords he desired to have beneath the Dynasty banner.

Dais zoomed into the lands that the Clans controlled and his good eye narrowed.  Argen had indicated that there was a movement of supplies that he couldn’t entirely pin down, that they seemed to be stockpiling; however, he couldn’t locate where or _why_ they would be doing such. 

Then again, Argen had also indicated that multiple Netherworlds had made forays into the gentle and lush lands that the Clans controlled.  The Clans were, apparently, fighting on three fronts, one of which was semi-internal.  Argen’s reports on the different Netherworlds that the Clans had run up against were disturbingly fascinating.  It appeared that the majority making their way through were hostile, which further depleted the Clans’ reserve of warriors.  Argen also reported that civilians were being abducted, so the Clan had retaliated by capturing, killing, and torturing some of the creatures that came through.  Most, when they could be made to talk and understood, indicated that they were: 1) looking for a new place to siphon off excess population, 2) looking for a new source of resources, 3) looking for conquest; Argen included sketches of the beings when he could.

 _I doubt there is anything I can do to extend their existence as a faction,_ Dais thought and added black pockets to where there had been conflicts with beings from other Netherworlds in Clans’ lands.  _I can do nothing for them except decide by whom they are destroyed.  Pity._

Aya had sent him word from the Ogres about the reaction to the hostilities, while also including details about the power structure within the Ogres.  It was, apparently, deliberately confusing so to keep everyone in line. The Ogres had a surprisingly large civilian population, and were driven by that more than the presence of military might to seek new territory.  Their numbers were growing faster than their resources could sustain.

The structure of the Ogres was meant to keep the people stuck in the station they were born into—there was little chance for social mobility, and that bred some discontent, which was also why the Ogres were looking for territory.  The hierarchy was extensive, elaborate, and oppressive, and Aya indicated that he had to work very hard to keep undercover.  The Ogres were more cautious than either the Children or Clans, and Aya had been unable to get even _close_ to the tactical meetings through normal means (he was no ninja and didn’t have the minor illusory gift that Tano possessed). Aya suggested that they were attempting to influence how the Clans and Children’s conflict was playing out while making some tactical moves of their own, but had completely avoided the Army.  Aya speculated that the higher-ups believed that as long as they didn’t venture into Army territory, the Army wouldn’t bother them.

Aya gave him a better sense of the popular opinion than tactics, but Dais knew that would be how he undermined the Ogres.  If and when he decided to—he had a feeling that the Ogres would be much more easily contained than the Army, and were less sneaky, too.   Still, given how they were more a civilian nation than martial one, Dais felt he could make the threat of the Army loom much larger than it might actually be and cause them to turn to him, to the Dynasty, for help, since they were a known evil and a well-documented stronghold.

The report about the Army of the Rising Sun that he received from Tano was three lines long. It was unlike her to be able to gather such little information, and that worried him.  Tano was one of the best spies the Dynasty had to offer—he had trained her himself.  All he had managed to get from her cryptic message was that the Army was much larger than it looked, it had a single, male leader, and they were in touch with another warlord from another Netherworld.  She couldn’t find out the names of either the leader of the Army _or_ the foreigner, and the jagged edge to the written words of that confession betrayed her frustration. 

Dais tapped his fingers together as he glared at the map. 

_The question is—should I make a move?_

He didn’t want to make hasty decisions.  The conflict had just begun, and he could afford to wait.  He was certain that no-one would attack the Dynasty outright—not with he and Kayura holding the reins.  The reputation he had crafted for them both kept most of the Netherworld holding their collective breaths and walking softly around them.  True, Skehmet was the most feared due to his poison and unpredictability, but Dais had casually mentioned that the Warlord of Poison had left the Castle—which, of course, most people interpreted as having gone abroad in the Dynasty.  

Dais pressed his fingers together before nodding slightly. 

_I’ll see about escalating the conflict between the Children and Clan.  The Ogres are more stable and perhaps can be bargained with and bullied into behaving and becoming part of the Dynasty.  Best to conserve resources for when the Army starts to tip their hand._

Dais twitched on a communication line and one of the Dynasty-loyal warlords came in, his helmet tucked under his arm.

“You need something?” the warrior asked in a grating monotone.

Dais inclined his head slightly and pulled another thread, which brought a upper-echelon Netherspirit to him. 

Dais turned to the Netherspirit.  “You and your kin can create a portal to behind the walls of the Children’s Keep?”

The Netherspirit nodded.

Dais looked at the Warlord, Jackal.  “You and your troops are going to use the portals the Netherspirits generate to storm the Children’s Keep, and then destroy everything.”

“Everything?” the warlord asked, anticipatory curiosity creeping into his voice.

“Everything,” Dais affirmed.  “I want there to be nothing for them to return to. Make it look like the Clans did it.”

“As you will, sire,” the warlord said and bowed deeply before leaving.  The Netherspirit vanished without a word, and Dais rubbed his good eye.

 _I can’t afford implication in the attack.  I have to make_ sure _it looks like the Clans did it, or else I’ll be drawn in much sooner than I want._

Dais tugged on another connection, and one of the assassins Dais “employed” appeared.

“Follow Jackal and his men,” Dais commanded.  “Make sure nothing that belongs to or is aligned with the Children leaves that village.  There will be _no_ survivors from the Children.   Understood?”

“Make sure that nothing but the Dynasty is left in the village once attacked,” the assassin replied before vanishing again.

Another contact brought a unassuming young woman to him, who gave him an inquisitive look.

“I’ve ordered an attack on the Children’s Keep.  Make sure that it looks like the Clans did it.  You may kill some of the Dynasty soldiers if you need to.”

She smiled, bowed, and left.

Dais looked at the map again.  It was a chancy move, but he had a feeling everything would play out the way he desired.

Not that he couldn’t backpedal quickly enough to denounce Jackal and his men and have them executed.  That might even be a wise move—if anyone in _his_ faction acted out of line, what would he do if someone else attacked him?

Dais looked up from the map as Kayura walked in, and Dais hated her all over again for the easy confidence in her step.

“You’re still up?” she asked, the rings on her staff jingling as she came to a stop.

Dais shrugged.

“The factions?” Kayura asked, intrigued by the detailed map that Dais had created. 

“Among other things,” he replied.

“Any updates that you’ve neglected to tell me?”

Dais kept himself from sighing.  “I’m getting reports as I go along. If I ever have something that I can’t handle on my own, I’ll get in touch with you.”

“I appreciate your consideration, warlord, but I do like being involved in protecting _my_ Dynasty.”

“You don’t trust me.”

“You don’t trust me either.”

Dais didn’t bother to refute the statement, since it was true.

“I’ve sent out orders to make sure that the Children are orphans,” Dais eventually said.

“I had no idea you were so vicious, warlord.”

Dais frowned.  “It’s not viciousness, it’s war.”

Kayura shrugged delicately. 

Dais struggled with himself, then said, “I’m worried about the Army of the Rising Sun.”

Kayura gave him a look.

Dais spun the map to focus in on the territory that the Army claimed as theirs. 

“I have my _best_ spy there and she’s unable to dredge up much information, and what she can communicate is heavily encoded.  I can’t see what’s going on and that has me uneasy.”

Kayura looked at the map.  “Why don’t we just attack and smoke them out of their hole?  A decisive move might be best.”

Dais hesitated.  “An offensive move might show my distrust of them,” he said slowly,  “which could be interpreted as fear, and would give them a reason to attack us.  My spy has indicated that they are working with a warlord from another realm—I’d like to have information on that before I do anything.”

“You’re sure that your caution isn’t cowardice?”

Dais didn’t rise to the bait—Kayura was young, impulsive, and had never actually _lead_.  He had dealt with antsy warriors before, and could outlast their impatience.  Such would never change, so he ignored Kayura’s insult and idly turned the map. 

“I want the conflict between the Children and Clans to tear each other apart for me.  I’d like to ‘peaceably’ _convince_ the Ogres to side with us so I can use them and whatever survives of the Clans and Children to wipe out the Army.”

“A process you intend to expedite.”

Dais inclined his head.  “It never hurts.”

Kayura fell silent, so Dais tugged on the line that brought a warlord and his lieutenant—Yami and Taro—to him.

The two gave Kayura deep and respectful bows before turning their attention to Dais. 

“Your troops have run into foreigners,” Dais said without preamble, and from the look that briefly passed between the two soldiers, Dais knew that Taro was wondering how _he_ knew.

Yami had told him.  He was one of Dais’ most loyal warlords, one that he had personally groomed for leadership.  Not that such was advertised—Talpa would have had him executed if he knew that Dais was building a power base for himself.

“I want you to go out and hunt for these… _visitors_ ,” Dais continued.  “You can kill them, just leave one alive and send he or she to me.  I’d like to have a discussion with the survivor.”

The soldiers nodded, the glowing narrowed slits that served as eyes betraying their bloodlust and amusement at Dais’ order. 

“I’ve heard that the Clan has had some trouble with the foreigners,” Dais said ‘off-handed’ as he turned back to the map.  “Perhaps you’d like to help them out.”

“Yes, sire,” they said in unison as Dais dismissed them. 

“You know, Dais, I can believe now that you killed your best friend and lord.”

“He was a stepping stone,” Dais replied evenly.

“Of course,” Kayura drawled.  “Warlord, you’ve been on your feet for, what, days, now?”

Dais ignored the question, amused by the reminder of his former life.

“Go rest before I make you,” Kayura said and gave him a pointed look.

“I’m _immortal_ ,” Dais drawled, “and you know as well as I do that whatever Talpa did to us has removed the need for creature comforts.”

 _Well, very little of a need,_ Dais amended as his vision blurred for a second.

“That doesn’t mean that your mind doesn’t become exhausted, and I need you at your best, Warlord,” Kayura countered.  “If you refuse to sleep, at least do something else.  Go…I don’t know, go to the Human World, just come back.”

Dais frowned at the floor.  The Human World had made him feel like a fool, but perhaps that ignorance would be refreshing.  He didn’t _have_ to know everything that was going on.

“No,” he heard himself say.  “Any time away from here leaves the Dynasty vulnerable.  I can’t afford—”

“Dais, _I’m_ here.  If anything truly pressing arises, I can handle it, along with some of the warlords we employ.  I’m sure they’d be happy to indulge in a battle or two.”

“But—”

“ _Trust me_.”

“I cant!” Dais snapped.  “A leader must—”

“Dais.  Even the best leaders sleep.  As you won’t, go to the Human World or join them out there in the hunt.”

Dais sighed.  “I’ll be back in an hour,” he said, deliberately leaving his decision vague. 

“Two.”

“No.”

“I can keep the door shut until I feel you can come back.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I’m strong enough to do that.  _Go_.”

Dais glared at the last of the Ancients, but could tell she was more than willing to out-stubborn him.

Dais sighed.  “Fine.  Don’t burn down the Castle while I’m away.”

“Yes, mother,” Kayura drawled as Dais left the War Room, his steps heavier than he would have liked.

Still, he had appearances to keep up, so managed _somehow_ to get to his room without collapsing.  Once safely inside, he removed his armor and cloaked it in an illusion.  He felt lighter without it and the responsibility it represented.  He rummaged through his closet until he found the human clothes that he remembered fitting him.

Everything was slightly looser, and it made Dais wonder when he had eaten last, then decided that wasn’t important.  He opened a portal, attached a thread between it and he that would alert him when an hour had passed, and stepped into Tokyo.

He flinched at the usual bombardment of sound and light and life of the city, but he didn’t have the same kind of minor unease that had popped up before.  He walked out of the public mall bathroom and into an outdoor, expansive, bustling area.  The sound of modern Japanese irked him, but he pushed his annoyance to the side.  He didn’t have to communicate, so he wouldn’t try.  He was in Tokyo to _avoid_ responsibility. 

He walked out of the mall and stopped to let the insanity of the mortal world wash over him.

Lights that dictated the flow of horse-less vehicles; people talking to others across the country by a small device made of materials more delicate and complex than Dais could grasp; music recorded onto small discs that could be replayed in various other electronic devices—electricity in _general_.  Everything was moved and powered by a force he couldn’t see, and that was dangerous to touch.  The night was as bright as the day thanks to electric lights, allowed giant metal snakes to transport hundreds of people across a city riddled with tall buildings that people worked and _lived_ in.  Thousands of people pressed in on him, all talking in a dialect he could barely understand. 

It was both frustrating and distastefully humbling.  He hadn’t felt so young and naive in centuries.

He made a left, settled into a leisurely walk, and couldn’t help but fall into observing the humans that populated the city.

The majority of faces were those kin to those he had seen throughout his childhood and slightly into his adult years.  400 years had changed many things, yes, but the changes in Japanese appearance were so slight as to be non-existent.  He knew that _he_ was the one who looked foreign.  It was the clothing that both intrigued and annoyed him, as always.  It was just so _different_ …

He was, to his chagrin, more scandalized than interested by how much skin women were allowed to show, especially foreign ones; he supposed that it took either great confidence or excessive foolishness to leave so much of their body unprotected, and it didn’t seem as if those who bared themselves were hookers.  He could only imagine the kind of trouble a modern woman would encounter if transported back to his time.  The women were easily pushed aside, however—he supposed it was because of how willing they were to flaunt what assets they possessed that was a turn-off.

He was embarrassed at how much guilty pleasure he took in how men, too, were allowed to leave less to the imagination regarding their bodies.  It was not nearly of the same extent, but he did appreciate how jeans and shirts clung closer to many a man’s skin.  Admittedly, there were some—both male and female—that he thought should rethink what they wore, but who was he to judge when the only way he really knew how to dress was a fashion from 400 years in the past?

Still, it reminded him about how long he hadn’t seen another person besides the warlords and Kayura, which was more or less equal to the amount of time it had been since he had sex (what he had done to the other warlords didn’t count).

He figured that people were oblivious enough that he could appraise physical appearances and not face any consequences.  He found a convenient storefront that allowed him ample view of passers-by and settled against the unfamiliar building material.  What better way to learn about acceptable and expected human appearance, at least?  He might even be able to get a sense of how the genders and ages interacted with each other, and it required no effort on his part.

His eyes were always inevitably drawn to the foreigners, since they stuck out so badly in the midst of the more-or-less homogenous Japanese crowd.  They looked almost comical to Dais.  He wondered if there were any amongst the foreigners who made their home in Japan, or if they were all simply visiting.

Admittedly, Dais was a full-blooded Japanese, yet looked completely foreign, so perhaps it wasn't his place to comment.

As during his first glance at the hive of humanity, he was struck by the bleached whiteness of some of the people wandering around, but the darker-skinned ones were rarer, and, therefore, even more remarkable.  Part of him wanted to seduce one into the Dynasty, pull he or she away from the city and world that they knew just so he could examine them at his leisure. 

Normally, he would.  However, during a time of war, any distraction could be fatal.  The visits that he was planning to indulge in could mean the end of the Dynasty’s control of the Netherworld. 

Kayura was powerful, but she could still be defeated.

The paler-skinned were interesting for their hair and eye color variation, but hair color could be changed without much difficulty, so that meant little.  That he saw other people with the same colored eyes as he was the most interesting that he observed in the white people around him. 

There were also tan people among the crowd, with dark hair and eyes as he was used to, but with a different face-shape that marked them as not Japanese, Chinese, or Korean.  Their facial features tended closer to the white people in the crowd, which made him wonder if they lived closer to each other than the white to the black.  Perhaps proximity bred similarity.

_Maybe some of those that Yami and Taro capture will be different shades of human.  I’d love to figure out what the differences are, should there be any._

He wondered what the variety would be like in other parts of the world, places outside of Japan, then decided that would be too large of a project to tackle while also navigating a war.

The clothing also seemed to vary by age—an increase in age seemed to mean an increase in modesty.  Of course, that was probably a very large generalization, but it would be consistent with his previous experience.  Youth seemed to allow for a wider and more obnoxious range of fabrics, colors, and cuts—all ways of expressing personality or identity or some such nonsense. 

He wondered if he should spend some more time in a clothing store, since some of the fabrics he saw worn begged to be touched.

It seemed as good an idea as any, but as he turned to go back to the pedestrian mall, he found his eye caught by an individual, which was unusual.  Dais was very picky, so most men fell short of his standards, and while the young man waiting impatiently at the bus station across the street didn’t _entirely_ satisfy, he came pleasantly close.

The young man had strength in him that was evident even through his lose T-shirt—it was in how the cloth tugged at his shoulders, the definition in his arms.  Beneath the impatience, he stood with a warrior’s confidence, his posture straight and weight perfectly balanced.  His entire body was expressive, although his face and eyes obviously the most so.  He was likely a man who _felt_ everything, experienced life with an intensity most couldn’t imagine.  He was probably nearly entirely transparent emotionally, although there did seem to be a tiny bit of opacity—probably brought on by some sort of traumatic experience.  Dark hair, dark eyes, but a face too broad to be purely Japanese—there was some Chinese heritage in him, most likely.  Dais was certain that the physical definition that was visible extended to the rest of his body. 

Dais felt strangely rooted to the spot, intrigued by the young man more than he would like.  Still, he was enjoying watching the man’s thoughts manifest in his face and body, so amused himself by trying to imagine what the young man would look without the obstruction of clothes, an exercise he hadn’t participated in for _centuries_. 

He wouldn’t have a prominent collarbone, but enough definition to indicate the pull of the muscle attached to it.  Perhaps some chest hair, but not a fur coat.

The young man didn’t look like the sort who would train excessively, just enough to make sure that his body was in peak condition, so there would be _some_ curves and dips that outlined the musculature of his torso.  His back and shoulders were likely tight from the training put into them, slightly toughened skin over a dense, deep strength.  There would be no feeling bone—it would all be well hidden.

He traced the curve of the young man’s hip, imagining removing the jeans that hugged his waist.  Dais could almost _feel_ the tension that his touch would cause, how the young man’s butt cheeks would tighten as if in preparation for a fight.  His thighs would have the same subtle definition as his arms; the same roughened skin over steely muscle would extend to his calves, and Dais was sure the young man had calluses from practicing one kind of hand-to-hand technique or another.

The young man he was objectifying must have felt his stare, since his head whipped around.  Dais saw the young man search for his eyes beneath the sunglasses, and Dais gave him an unapologetically salacious smile that seemed to throw the young man even more than Dais’ mental undressing of him. The young man’s face flushed and he looked away in disgust.

Dais snickered and turned, figuring that a retreat would only unnerve his victim more, since he wouldn’t have someone to point out when he complained to the friend he was waiting for.  Anyway, there was a tug on his mind that told him his hour was up.  Dais found a blind corner and disappeared back into the Dynasty. 

As he was changing out of his human clothes and back into his subarmor, he couldn’t help but think: _I wonder who that was.  He seemed…familiar._

Dais felt better for his minor mental game and went back to the pile of reports that were waiting for him, feeling strangely refreshed.


	4. Chapter 4

Dais knew the Army of the Rising Sun was on the move, but he couldn’t _prove it_. Nonetheless, his instincts had very rarely proven wrong (the Ronin being the odd exception), so he had traps and fortifications set up in the villages and lands that supplied the Dynasty, while also bolstering the capital’s defenses.

When they finally attacked, Dais would show them what it meant to take on the power that had ruled the Netherworld for over one thousand years.

Kayura, naturally, found his caution excessive, but supported and helped to enforce Dais’ precautions.

Such support was at the expense of badgering him about his foray into the Human World, but Dais’ virtue had served him well throughout four hundred years of Sekhmet, Kale, and Anubis—dealing with only Kayura was nothing in comparison.

“Well?” she asked with all the curiosity of the twelve-year-old she actually was.

“Well what?” Dais asked, trying and failing to play dumb as he oversaw the reinforcing of a barricade.

“What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“ _Dais_.”

“What?”

“Stop it!”

Dais refused to face her. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Bullshit.”

“Where’d you…nevermind, probably Sekhmet.”

“You, actually,” Kayura said slyly.  

Dais twitched.

“If you’re so eager to know about it, go see for yourself,” Dais replied as he wove an illusion over the barricade the grunts had finished refurbishing, hoping that anyone attacking would find themselves impaled by the spikes and the pressure of those coming up behind them.

It was also strangely satisfying to see soldiers realize that they were climbing on the bodies of their comrades to achieve their goal. It was demoralizing for mortal soldiers, but he doubted it would stop Netherworld warriors for long. Still, it would slow them down, which would give the Dynasty archers more time to pick the attackers off.

Kayura huffed, but did not reply.

 _Then again, I wouldn’t want to inflict her_ alone _on the Human World. She would probably attract people who meant her no good and then things would go very bad very quickly._

Dais barely resisted the urge to rub his temples.

“It’s noisy,” Dais eventually said.

He could feel Kayura’s stare as he moved to check on another security measure.

“And there are more people than you see even on a battlefield, and they all _ignore_ each other,” he continued.

Kayura’s gaze became incredulous as she fell into step beside him. “Even a Dynasty army?”

“Yes.”

“That’s…a lot of people.”

Dais shrugged. “That’s it.”

“Really? That’s _everything_?”

“I’ve only been there once, two weeks ago. Protecting the Dynasty is more important than satisfying my curiosity over something I willingly gave up over four _hundred_ years ago.”  
Kayura gave him a thoughtful look before saying: “You know, now that you’re not under Talpa’s control, you fit your virtue.”

Dais frowned. “Hardly important right now, don’t you think?”

There were many more things to ponder then whether or not he fit what the Ancient arbitrarily decided would be the ‘virtue’ for his armor. To Dais, the very _concept_ was ridiculous. Kale was very far from obedient, and Dais doubted that Sekhmet had a philanthropic bone in his body; how they had ended up with the armor they wielded was subject more to Talpa’s whims than their actual personalities.

Since his brief vacation in the human world, Dais had been carefully watching the conflict between the Clans and Children, and was annoyed by the stalemate they had reached. Both sides were too stubborn to entirely fold, and now that they had been reduced to their strongest and most loyal parts…well, it made them formidable.

It didn’t help that a door was to other worlds was open. He hadn’t sent any troops past the thinning barrier, although other lesser warlords and stupider entities had explored where the Gates now led, which had helped deplete Akuma’s soldiery. According to a report from Argen, Akuma’s troops had brought back corpses, artifacts, and information from the forays that returned (his spy had managed to uncover most of what had been discovered and promised to send the information in subsequent reports).

It appeared that what Dais thought of as the Netherworld was a smaller subset of a much greater Netherworld. The Netherworld appeared to be the mirror of the Human World, and most were separate and distinct to their region, built off of the culture and history of the area it was tied to. In more than one place, it was simple a ‘here there be monsters’ where the humans’ disbelief dumped cosmic beings and things of legend. However, Akuma’s troops had brought back someone from a realm similar to the Dynasty, in that it used the same kind of technology, mystical power, and feudal structure (although that was where the similarities ended, according to Argen). Argen had managed to be stationed outside the torture room, but the report was disappointing. Apparently, the language spoken was completely foreign, although Argen _had_ managed to extract the name of the faction the man was from the babble: _Kuruseida._ It was a clumsy word, although Dais was sure it was more easily said in the native tongue.

It was the first name he had to apply to a foreign world, and it left him uneasy. He couldn’t say _why_ , but it made him want to find out how Akuma had gotten into the foreign world and find a way to slam the door shut.

A report he had received from Tano had left him with a low-grade headache. According to her, the warlord who ran the Army had been in contact with beings from another of the Netherworlds. That a warlord of the Netherealm was forming an alliance with something from somewhere else was…troubling. Tano’s report indicated that there was frequent communication and an exchange of forces, resources, and information across the boundary that was unseen expect by those deep in the power structure. Dais supposed that there were weak places in the barrier of that protected the Dynasty, and that this warlord was making use on one. His own experience as well as the details given to him said that willingly allowing another Netherworld into the Dynasty was sure to turn into an invasion, regardless of how much the warlord thought he was in control.

The only saving grace Dais found in the situation was that the Army would probably be the first to bear the brunt of their poor judgment, and their internal strife would leave them ripe for Dais to kick both them _and_ the foreigners out of the Netherworld.

“How do you do it, Warlord?”

Dais looked over to Kayura as he pushed open the door to the War Room. “Do what, Lady?”

“Think so hard all the time.”

Dais said nothing and turned to face the generals he had gathered. Talpa would have had him tortured and killed if he had known that Dais had been accruing a small power base for himself beneath his armored nose, but Dais believed in planning for contingencies—one being Talpa’s downfall.

The two generals he had called to him, Mayuri and Kurosuke, were two that he had groomed from the moment that they made an appearance in the ranks of the Dynasty. Non-grunts were difficult to come by, especially ones with any kind of intellectual capacity, so Dais had a tendency to either grab them immediately or destroy them before they could become a threat.

The two generals bowed deeply and Dais waved a hand over the map, bringing it to life.

“The Army is working with a foreign force,” Dais said calmly, and he was proud at how well his generals hid their astonishment. “Which I need information on. Finding anything out will likely require a loss of life, as we will need to pull the Army into making a rash move and revealing with whom they are working.”

Mayuri pointed to a river delta on the map. “There is a small force there.”

Dais inclined his head.

“They are gathering resources, hoarding what they can pull from the area.”

“Attacking them there will ruin our chances for capital gains from there, too,” Kurosuke said. “We can’t risk Dynasty lands.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Mayuri replied calmly. “Just make them think that something upstream in the mountains is more profitable than what they currently control.”

Dais looked at the terrain. _Lure them into a blind chase and then eradicate them._

“Kurosuke, would you mind bringing Jackal’s new lieutenant—Reimu, I believe—here?”

Kurosuke was obviously curious at the non sequitur, but left with a polite bow.

“My Lord?” Mayuri asked.

“One of the guards stationed outside the door will be following Kurosuke,” Dais replied as he turned the map. “Kurosuke will kill the soldier when they try to kill him. If I am right, prior to his death, the soldier will then implicate Reimu, who will be forced into a corner and will either confess to being a spy or commit suicide. I strongly suggest that the remaining soldier reconsider where his allegiance lay.”

Kayura stared at him and Mayuri was obviously amused.

“Care to tell me your real plan now, Mayuri?” Dais asked once he was sure there were no eavesdroppers.

Mayuri chuckled, astonishment in her voice. “One day you must tell me how you do it.”

“The master never gives away his secrets,” Dais replied. “Now, tell me.”

“The Army moves only in small cavalry units, and the remnants of the Children have allied with them.” Mayuri pointed to a different place on the map. “This is the last remaining _true_ Children outpost and where Akuma is hiding.”

Dais hummed.

“Army units move in and out constantly, so if we either wipe out for conscript what remains of the Children there, we can either capture or destroy Army soldiers. I have a force a day’s march from there. Part will drive them from the village and into the mountains, where the other part of my force will decimate them.”

“Fly your own banner,” Dais said, which was permission enough for Mayuri, who bowed and left, passing Kurosuke on her way out.

Kurosuke looked between her and Dais before entering.

“Sire, with all due respect, I do not appreciate being used like a fishing lure,” the general said, and Kayura snickered.

“Next time I will ask Mayuri, then, since you believe yourself unworthy to serve the Dynasty by ridding it of the spies that seek its downfall,” Dais said languidly.

Kurosuke balked. “I didn’t mean—Sire, please…”

“I understand your impatience, general,” Dais said, “but your forces are some of the best I have and I cannot waste your men on petty skirmishes. _You_ will be flying the Dynasty’s banner—your forces will declare our commitment to the destruction of the other factions.”

“My men need action.”

“Then send them to kill or capture the warlords who remain stubbornly unaligned; just make certain that they cannot be traced back to the Dynasty—I will have them executed if any connection can be made.”

“Sire,” Kurosuke said and bowed deeply before leaving perhaps more quickly than would be polite.

“Do you really kill those who doesn't follow your orders?”

“Of course,” Dais replied as he shifted pieces indicating his forces. “Empty threats garner no respect.”

“And I thought Anubis had worn the armor of Cruelty.”

Dais snorted. “Lady Kayura, Anubis knew how to motivate his men only through Cruelty, just as Sekhmet only knew how to lead through the threat of agony.”

“And you do otherwise?”

“I was an advisor to a shogun, my lady. You win as many hearts through generosity as fear.”

“I’ve never seen you award anyone.”

“Because you and I never interacted before the Talpa tried to take over the Human World and ran up against the Ronin. When Thalus returns with the leaders of the Clans in tow, he will be raised to one of _my_ generals.”

“Thalus? Isn’t he—”

“A very minor, low-ranking warlord who I have been guiding and teaching, albeit without his knowledge. He has immense potential, and I want him where I can mold him.”

“That’s an enormous leap in station.”

“An intentional and motivational one.”

“Kurosuke will resent it.”

“Kurosuke will have his glorious battles once I discover who the Army is working with.”

“Wait, how do you know Thalus will bring the Clan’s leaders back and not just kill them?”

“Thalus is more kin to Yami than Mayuri or Kurosuke. He recognizes the need to demoralize, not just massacre.”

Kayura hummed.

“How long has it been since Kale and Sekhmet went to the Human World?” Dais asked.

“A month, I think,” Kayura replied, frowning at the jump in topic.

“I’ll give them one more week before I send someone looking for them.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re needed here.”

“You think they will return willingly?”

“Whether or not they are willing isn’t my concern,” Dais said smoothly as his fingers traced the pieces that signified his fellow Dark Warlords. “They need to be here.”

“What, you’re too weak to handle this on your own?”

Dais grit his teeth, but refused to rise to the bait. “Go make yourself a target,” Dais said drolly. “Maybe we can force the Ogres or Army into action if you grandstand and step on a few toes.”

Kayura laughed and shook her head, her long hair fluttering behind her as she left the War Room.

Dais took a deep breath and let it out in a long, slow sigh.

 _Running a campaign is a pain in the ass,_ he muttered. He locked the War Room with an illusion that only he, Kayura, and his generals could see through, then proceeded to his chambers.

Five reports waited for him on his desk when he entered and Dais sent his armor to rest on the stand nearby, but stayed in his subarmor.   
He sat down in front of the desk, but found that his mind was racing too quickly to focus on decoding the pieces of parchment in front of him.

There was too much to do, too much to organize, and he felt that he had a less comprehensive picture than he needed to be able to plan correctly.

_It all rests on the Army. I can paralyze and terrorize the Ogres and my men will happily mop up the tattered remnants of Children and Clans._

He pushed aside some clutter on his desk to make room for a report when something clattered to the floor.

Dais tensed and looked over, and his shoulders dropped a notch when he recognized the sunglasses he had worn into the Human World.

He picked up the headgear and turned them over in his hands.

_I have done what I can, and Kayura will happily make a mess of things and create a smokescreen for me to take advantage of later. For now, though…_

“Kayura, I’ll be back in an hour,” he said over the connection between he and Kayura that allowed for instant communication (which he never really used, because both he and Kayura had their respective pride).

“Have fun, Warlord,” she replied, distracted.

Dais put on a different outfit than the one he had worn on his previous trip, cloaked his armor in invisibility and set a small trap around it so no-one made the mistake of attempting to steal it, and stepped through a portal he made.

He was proud that the change from Netherworld to Human World jarred him less, although there remained a small amount of disorientation. He looked around the bustling hive and his eye fell on a train that wound about the city on an elevated platform.

_Perhaps…I’ve studied much of the human population, maybe it would be best to learn the geography and layout of the city._

Dais decided that the best way to learn the layout of modern day Tokyo was to take public transit around, and, after consulting with a map of the city for a few minutes, decided to take the Yamanote-sen, which was an above-ground train that would take him in a large circle around Tokyo. It would hit all the major districts in Tokyo, so he decided that, after riding the Yamanote-sen for one circuit, he’d get off at a random station and see what he discovered.

It was plan, albeit not a very good one. Then again, he was trying hard _not_ to plan, and was obviously failing terribly.

 _I suppose four hundred years of habits are hard to break_.

He meandered to what was marked as Tokyo Station and entered the large structure. A multitude of humans crisscrossed the tiled floor, some at a run, others at a languid stroll. He saw families, businessmen, and teenagers all occupying the same space and couldn't stop himself from shaking his head in amazement.

He wondered how many people Sekhmet had killed inadvertently due to the sheer population density of the modern world.

He wondered how he would _get_ to the trains, then noticed signs hanging from the ceilings or plastered to the walls that pointed him in the correct direction. He reached a junction where the arrows pointed to him needing to make his way through strange sliding panes of plastic, and Dais had a feeling that they couldn’t be tricked like a human could. So he stood back, rested against a wall, and watched.

It took him a minute, but he eventually deduced that the humans were using a small card to make the panes of glass move aside without them pushing or pulling. It was a quick, reflexive action for many of them, but Dais eventually figured that they placed the small card into a slot, and then the card was spat out on the other side of the panes. He didn’t want to figure out _how_ the machines worked, what happened internally to make the panes slide apart without any effort, he simply wanted to know what he needed to do to make them perform their function.  

Once he was sure that he was correct in what needed to be done to get the panes to move, he wondered where the humans were getting the cards and _how_ they were getting them. Dais saw humans standing in front of other machines and sighed.

 _Do they use machines for_ everything?

He moved and loitered close to the new machines, projecting the feeling that he was waiting for someone, when he was in truth carefully observing the humans’ interaction with the latest contraption. It appeared that one pressed the screen, which did something, there was money involved, and then one of the cards appeared out of a slot.

Dais wanted to rub his temples. _I’m not sure which place is more confusing—the Netherworld or here._

It appeared that, above all else, he had to figure out how to interact with technology. It was one thing to see it and understand it intellectually, from out of a manual or magazine—it was entirely different when one was forced to _use_ it.

Dais pushed away from the wall, idly pick-pocketed someone who came too close to him, and then went and stood before an unoccupied machine. He set up a small illusion that convinced those who looked his way that he wasn’t there and that the machine was broken. He was glad that he was at least _literate_ in modern Japanese, even if he couldn't speak it.

There were a great deal of buttons before him, and the screen itself seemed to possess “buttons” of some sort, which made no sense to Dais, but it appeared such was the case.

He spent some time deliberately making mistakes, both to see how the machine would react and to figure out how it worked. There was no real _consequence_ to him messing up, so he made use of negative as well as positive results to work out how he was supposed to use the thing before him.

Once he felt he had a working knowledge of the machine, he rifled through the wallet he had lifted and took an appropriate amount of money out. He pressed a few buttons that corresponded to the amount he wanted to have the card record, cautiously fed it to the machine, and startled when the paper bill was sucked quickly into it. There were a few bizarre whirls and buzzes and a card similar to what the other humans were using popped out of a slot. He cautiously took it, and turned it over, examining it as he walked away from the machine, slipping the stolen wallet into his back pocket.

 _How does this have value attached to it?_ he wondered as he allowed himself to be carried along with the crowd. His ears were beginning to ache from both human chatter and the announcements by a disembodied voice that everyone was ignoring (Dais followed the general example and paid it no mind—not that he could understand what was being said anyway).

Dais mimicked what he saw the other humans doing to pass the barrier of glass and was proud at how he didn’t stare when the barriers slid aside simply because he inserted the piece of paper—and then at how the ticket was spit back out on the other side. Dais quickly stepped through, and wandered towards where he believed the Yamanote-sen’s platforms to be.

 _Maybe getting used to modern technology will be harder than I thought,_ he mused. _It looked complicating on paper, yes, but I hadn’t thought it would be so…strange._

Dais spent his idle time trying to work out what the unseen person was saying when the train arrived.

 _And somehow people trust this thing,_ Dais thought as he watched the metal tube come to a stop and the doors open without anyone actively pushing them.

 _Perhaps I distrust electricity more than technology,_ Dais thought unhappily as he watched the crowd disembark.  

Dais stepped on the train and made his way to the opposite side that the doors opened on. It would probably be easiest for him to: 1) observe the ebb and flow of people, 2) learn how the train worked, 3) discover where he traveled to, and 4) continue to acclimate himself to near suffocating overcrowding. That it also would give him a decent escape route wasn’t a bad thing either.

He _did_ object to the smell of the train—although that was probably the result of hundreds to thousands of bodies that passed in and out constantly.   
The speed with which they traveled was fascinating while also occasionally making his heart skip a beat or five. The train traveled much faster than any horse could, and seeing the buildings fly by was disconcerting. He held onto a nearby pole with perhaps too strong a grip, but he felt it necessary to keep himself grounded.

People only looked at him twice because of his coloring, not because of his obvious apprehension at riding the train—it was probable that he wasn’t the _only_ person in the Human world who hated trains; still, he didn’t want to show weakness, even if he wasn’t in a position or place where people would care. _He_ cared, and that was what mattered.

He stayed on the train long past the one circuit he had initially promised himself, since no-one _made_ him disembark, and it was interesting to catalog which stops brought on the most people, which ones let them off, and then attaching the names of the stations to them, along with the buildings and signs he passed. It was a crude map, but it was the beginning of one.

 _I come to Tokyo, to the Human World, because I’m ignorant of it and want to get lost in it, and instead I find myself learning about it. I didn’t think I had any space in my mind for more information, let alone the ability to focus on something other than the headache waiting for me at home,_ he mused as he watched a group of girls dressed in oddly frilly dresses board the train.

The train progressively grew more crowded and Dais found himself pushed further back onto the train door, a situation he disliked. Yes, he could clear the crowd quickly and easily if he wanted to, but that wasn’t the point. He didn’t come to the Human World to pick fights. He was _avoiding_ them.

When a particularly large influx of humans occurred, Dais turned his body so that a person could slide in and grab a hold of the pole that he was holding on to. The train jerked to a start before the person had a good grip, so Dais ended up catching him, the inertia of the multitude of bodies pressing them close. Once the ride smoothed out and people separated slightly, Dais finally got a good look at the person he had been supporting.

Dais’ good eyebrow rose slightly, he recognizing the young man he had been ogling the previous time he had been in Tokyo, and the young man he had objectified, surprisingly, recognized him as well. Dais could tell that the young man was about to yell at him, so Dais, on impulse, quickly covered the irate young man’s mouth with his hand. Dais shook his head, unsure how to say, “Not here and not now,” in modern Japanese. The young man’s eyes were furious, and Dais couldn’t entirely help the smirk that quirked at his lips. He had always taken pleasure in angering his fellow warlords past the point of them forming coherent revenge plans, and it seemed as if the young man before him had a hair-trigger of a temper.

Up close, the young man smelled like he had just stepped out of a kitchen, spices clinging to his hair and skin, and the physique Dais had guessed at was more clearly visible. Dais decided that the young man’s face wasn’t handsome, but that wasn’t entirely his allure, if it could be called that. No, it was something else...there was a sense of _power_ to him, and, to Dais, that was more seductive than anything else.

The train came to a stop and Dais uncovered the young man’s mouth, briefly brushing the young man’s lips with the tips of his fingers. Dais allowed himself to be carried away with the tide of travelers, and while he hadn’t decided that the stop they had arrived at was the one he wanted, he felt it would be best to keep his molestations brief and innocuous so as to avoid trouble.

His interest had been piqued, however—Tokyo was a city of more people than Dais could wrap his mind around, so to run into the same person twice, especially since the encounters had been in different parts of the city, after an amount of time had passed was…remarkable, too much so to be mere coincidence.

Dais frowned at the floor as he followed to tide of humanity down into the streets, wandering lazily until the tug on his gut told him that his time in the Human World had come to an end.

The sense of familiarity upon seeing the young man again had only grown, and Dais found himself preoccupied with the puzzle of the youth in spite of all the trouble he had on his hands upon returning to the Dynasty.


End file.
